Antique Road Show
by Alexis Seven
Summary: just some 23rd century people having some 21st century fun...
1. A String Of Emergencies

Hello all! Wow…the new movie is amazing. I have been a die-hard Trekker for some time, and was greatly impressed by the new movie. This is only the second time that I have written for the TOS characters, now considered the 2009 characters, (same characters, really, for those who don't know Trek, just different realities). For further reference, I may or may not include characters from TOS (The Original Series) or TAS (The Animated Series) in these, such as Nurse Chapel, Lt. Arex, or Lt. M'ress. If you're not sure who they are, I would suggest going to and looking them up, though it isn't necessary. Now…ON WITH THE FICS!

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

So I bring you...

A String of Emergencies

oOoOoOoOo

Items typically banned from starships include unauthorized personal weapons, unauthorized explosives, animals that may cause harm to fellow crewmembers, and Romulan Ale. Items that fall under any of these categories were generally covered in detail at the Academy, and again when an officer is assigned to a ship. No items described as any of these could be found aboard the _Enterprise, _yet somehow, people where getting hurt. Not just your typical, every day, run-of-the-mill hurt, but odd, off-the-wall injuries.

Ensign Bright, a smart young officer from engineering, sat on a biobed, nursing her bruised cheekbone.

"Care to explain that?" Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy asked, running a medical tricorder over the area.

"I'd really rather not." The green-eyed girl replied, refusing to meet his gaze.

"You certainly don't seem the type to start a mess hall brawl," He said absently, checking the readings. No fracture, which was somewhat surprising considering the other damage that had been inflicted on the area. A large, purplish splotch had come to cover the area from temple to the bridge of her nose, and a large, black circle was forming under her eye. "Everything seems to be alright. Take some of this," he handed her a small container of pills, "to reduce the swelling. Just don't go walking into any walls or falling face first to the floor."

"Thanks, sir. I'll try not to hurt it more." The young woman hopped off of the bed, and left with nothing more than a quick smile.

The doctor shook his head, staring at the sickbay doors with a furrowed brow. Dropping the incident, he shrugged and turned to a small monitor on one wall, making a quick entry of the girl's readings. He disappeared into his office, reorganizing the computer's medical files more to his liking.

A few hours later, the sickbay doors swished open. He assumed it must be Nurse Christine Chapel reporting for her shift. He glanced at the chronometer in the lower corner of the computer screen, only 1423 hours; her shift didn't start until 1600. He peered around the wall to see another young officer from engineering, judging by the uniform, gingerly cradling his right hand as a slow trickle of blood seeped from his lower lip.

"Now what?" Bones rushed over to the younger man, grabbing a small cloth off of the counter and shoving it at the other officer to dab the blood from his lip. His good hand now otherwise occupied, the injured appendage was free for Bones to examine. The last two knuckles were swelling quickly, and he seemed unable to move those fingers. "Brilliant, ensign, just brilliant. What did you do to it?"

The officer glanced away quickly. "I…hit it."

"With what, a freighter?" Bones rubbed his thumb lightly over the injury and the younger man winced. "Well?"

When he didn't respond, the doctor grumbled under his breath and grabbed at his tray of medical equipment. The matter quickly taken care of, he sent the officer on his way with some pain medication and a stern warning.

Happenings like these filtered in and out of sickbay over the course of the next several days, steadily becoming more and more frequent, and with frequency came severity.

Bones pulled up the shirt of a science officer to reveal an oddly shaped bruise forming on his abdomen, the two parallel pieces of it neatly straddling the cracked rib beneath.

He could see a definite pattern forming with these injuries…most of the bruises were similar to this one, and the injury was often from a blow of concentrated force, like one strong punch. Injuries were often small, but severe enough to warrant medical treatment, and accompanying injuries were in the same region. Generally speaking, if the upper half were hurt, the lower half wouldn't be. The most unusual thing about this string of occurrences was that NO ONE would state what it was that hurt them.

He made quick work of the wound with the bone-kitting laser, then turned to another bed where a communications officer sat with a busted kneecap. Having already pulled up his black slacks, the blood pooling at the base of the knee was clearly visible. Quickly scanning the officer with his tricorder, he made a few entries and passed it off to Nurse Chapel as he moved two beds over to tend to a severe friction burn that nearly severed a fingertip.

Throughout sickbay, monitors beeped and spat readings, and the patients groaned and refused to meet his eye. If the injuries were not so bizarre, he would have sworn that they had started some sort of secret fight club.

"What happened to you?" He asked the lieutenant. No response. He'd come to expect that. He grabbed an autosuture and put it in place before whirling around to see his newest guest. A female officer was hurriedly escorting another male crewmember through the sliding doors, his hands covering his mouth and dripping blood.

He shoved the man onto the closest available biobed and had to forcibly pull the man's hands away. "Good God, man!" He stared in surprised horror at the man's palm and the tooth that sat in it. He switched his glare to the man's face, hoping for some explanation, but received none. He looked at the woman. She looked at her companion. He looked at the floor. She looked across the room. Bones rolled his eyes.

"Lieutenant!" He barked. Nurse Chapel, having just finished with the ensign with the bad knee, trotted over to tend to the missing tooth. Bones absently wiped the blood on his smock, and checked a nearby monitor for feedback on patients ready to leave.

Several hours later, he trudged into the mess hall and placed his order. "Coffee, blacker than black and hotter than Hell." The food synthesizer whirred, and he pulled a steaming hot mug from it and dropped himself into a chair at a table in one corner. Despite self-medication, his head still throbbed and he ached from the day's work. He rested his face in his free hand, and grimaced inwardly as he realized he'd forgotten to shave for the past two days; not exactly protocol for a Starfleet officer. His ears seemed to scream as a familiar voice started talking across from him.

"Bones," the captain wore his typical cocky smile, eased back in his chair as if he hadn't a care in the world. It sickened the doctor. As much as he and the captain were friends, he really didn't want to be within twenty feet of another humanoid right now. All he wanted was silence and his coffee. "How are things in Sickbay?"

The doctor's grip tightened around the handle of the mug, his knuckles turning white. He lifted his face up to stare daggers at the younger man, his eyes bloodshot with dark circles underneath.

"Whoa," The captain's expression changed to one less arrogant, knowing that the attitude would not be appreciated here. "Something I should know about?" He leaned forward, a tightened frown where the smirk had previously been.

"I've treated nearly a third of the crew in the past three days for injuries that only they know how they received." He glared across the table, out a window on the far side. He took a long swig from his coffee before slamming it to the table with much more force than necessary. "Dammit, Jim! I'm I doctor, not a detective! How am I supposed to know how to properly treat them when I don't know what they did to themselves in the first place?!" He sighed and slumped forward in his seat. "Sorry, Jim." He shook his head slowly.

"Hey, take it easy, okay?" The young captain rose to his feet and lightly slapped his friend's shoulder. "I'm sure things will let up. People can only get hurt so many times in a seventy-two hour period."

"Yeah, you would know." The doctor mumbled.

"Well, at least they seem to still be able to perform their duties. If I figure anything out, I'll drop in." He turned to leave, stopping only once more. "If you need anything just let me know." Kirk flashed another smile and was out the door in an instant.

Bones watched him go and slowly shifted his gaze around the room. A small group was clustered around a certain Russian teenager, entranced with some sort of toy he was playing with. It appeared to be a primitive, round device on the end of a string. He briefly wondered what it was, but dismissed it and stood, ready to turn in for the night.

The next morning rolled around with more of the same sorts of injuries that had now started to become part of the every-day routine. Bones treated them, they thanked him, and they left, without ever saying a word as to what the cause of their mishap was.

He leaned against a biobed during a lull in what would ordinarily be organized chaos, rubbing the bridge of his nose and thankful for the slight reprieve. Having barely had time to restore his breathing to normal, he was forced to whirl around as yet another soon-to-be patient dove through the doors. This patient, though, was the last person he expected to see involved in this trend.

He was hunched forward, his face buried in his hands. Green blood streamed from under them and ran down, staining his blue sleeves. His jet-black hair was disheveled, and he shook his head in an effort to clear his still-foggy mind.

"Spock, I am SO sorry," Uhura jogged beside the half-Vulcan, her hands outstretched as if wanting to help, but he was too fast, staying at least one stride ahead of her.

"Nyota, now is not the time for apologies; now is the time for medical attention." His voice held a strange sense of urgency and was decidedly more nasal than usual.

The doctor grabbed at a cloth to contain the bleeding, guiding the commander to an empty biobed. The science officer coughed and spat blood that had run down his throat, leaning over a sink-like fixture a few feet away. Moments later, Kirk appeared through the doors, followed by Chekov of all people. Bones pushed the injured crewman to the bed, firmly grabbing the man's chin to keep him still. The bleeding finally under control, he reached for the bone-kitting laser, setting to work on Spock's nose. Between Uhura's repeated apologies, Spock's protests and Kirk's questions, McCoy could barely hear himself think.

"Alright! Alright! Quiet!" He shouted over the din. Within seconds the room was silent, save for the occasional beep of a monitor and the hum of the engines in the background. "How did this happen?"

Uhura was the first to speak. "I was trying a new trick, and it came off of the string--"

"Wait, what came off?" Bones looked questioningly at her, who in turn looked to the teen Ops ensign. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a toy similar to the one he had been playing with in the mess hall the night before. Suddenly everything seemed to click. The shape matched the bruises perfectly, the two halves of this thing forming the split shape of the painful marks that marred a good chunk of the crew. If the device were on a string, that would explain why injuries were often limited to only certain areas of the body, the parts that the thing would be able to reach. Simple physics explained the force the object was capable of. The fact that this thing was a TOY said why nobody was willing to tell what they had gotten so severely injured with. No one in their right mind would admit to getting a broken rib from a child's plaything. "What is this thing?"

"A Yo-yo, sir. My great great great great great great grandfather was a world-wide Yo-yo champion on Earth; I have been practicing some of the tricks in my spare time. Others liked it, and built their own, so that they could try." The teen replied.

Bones looked over at the captain, his expression grave. "You have to ban it, Jim."

"What? The crew seems to like them; they were all having a great time--"

"These things have to go. It was bad enough when those playing with them were getting hurt, but now, innocent bystanders are getting injured! Jim, Yo-yos have got to go!" He slammed a fist in the biobed next to Spock, who stifled a moan in response.

The captain seemed to consider this. "Sorry Chekov, but he's right. You'll have to limit Yo-yo time to shore leave."

The ensign deflated a bit at this, but shrugged and pocketed the toy.

Soon after, the list of items banned from the starship _Enterprise_ was revised to include unauthorized personal weapons, unauthorized explosives, animals that may cause harm to fellow crewmembers, Romulan Ale, and Yo-yos.

FIN

oOoOoOoOo

Heehee!!! I love this story. This was so much fun to write! And thanks to Kippling Croft for helping me come up with the ideas for these things. Thanks KC!

Anyhow, R&R, you know I love getting them. ;) Please, stick around for more!


	2. Operation DDR

Disclaimer: See previous chapter

oOoOoOoOo

_Operation: DDR_

Somewhere near Silver Springs, NV.

The stars overhead shone stubbornly in the evening sky, doing their best to shine their brightest in the light still left. The summer air was muggy and damp, leaving uniform shirts sticking to the humanoid bodies wearing them. The _Enterprise_ crew members pulled at them in an effort at ventilation, but without success.

"The heat here is worse than on the new Vulcan colony," Captain Kirk commented absently.

Spock raised one long-suffering eyebrow and bit back a logical retort and the ship's communications officer stifled a giggle.

Pavel Chekov absently wiped some sweat from his forehead, not used to these high temperatures. Back home, cold harsh winters were the norm. He did certainly miss his small home in Russia, but it was worth leaving to join Starfleet. He greatly valued the training and the exposure to so many new things. His Academy roommate for his first year had introduced him to what were called video games, vintage and antique ones at that, and he had spent much of his free time mastering those.

They continued along the dusty road, making their way toward a small, worn looking building. It may at one point have been painted, but years, possibly decades of dirt and wind and weather had made any trace of color other than brown unrecognizable. A few motorcycle type devices were parked outside, along with several old fashioned automobiles that were in desperate need of restoration.

"You sure this is the place?" Doctor McCoy asked to nobody in particular.

"I believe that this is the location Mr. Scott stated." Spock replied, opening the doors to let the small group in.

Dark, smoky air filled every cubic inch of space, and the smell of assorted food items permeated the atmosphere. Music boomed over the speakers, making it difficult for the officers to hear each other easily.

Scotty was fairly easy to locate, sitting at the bar, a drink in his hand, and the others quickly took up seats or standing positions nearby.

Off in one corner, Chekov was able to make out the silhouette of the young helmsman whose mistake on his first voyage on the _Enterprise_ quite possibly saved them all. Had he not left the 'parking brake' on, the flagship would have left with the other ships and been easily destroyed right along with them.

Sulu bounced back and forth, playing some kind of game that Chekov had never seen the likes of ever before. The young Asian man was stomping on large pink and blue arrows on a pad underneath him, moving to hit them in time with arrows that were rising from the bottom of the screen, occasionally using a pink bar behind him for support. Strange music blasted from the machine's speakers, just loud enough to be heard over what was playing in the rest of the building. Chekov was fascinated.

"Hey, what're you two up to?" Kirk sauntered over to the machine, his eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and Sulu's feet. "Looks like fun."

"Dance Dance Revolution," Sulu huffed between steps, "almost done." The last few arrows rose to the top of the screen, and a few moments later, CLEARED showed up in big block letters, followed by Sulu's score for the song.

"Mind if I try?" Kirk hopped onto the pad next to the younger officer without waiting for a response. Sulu restarted the game, picking his level of difficulty. "You were only in beginner mode?"

"Light mode, yes. This is harder than it looks." Sulu wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

"Whatever you say." Kirk flipped his up to standard mode, and hit 'Roulette' for the game to choose a song for them.

The night continued with nearly every member of the crew present, save for Spock, taking a turn on the strange, yet highly addictive game. Even the ship's CMO gave it a go. Several rounds were played, one officer competing against another, until only two people had not played each other.

Chekov stepped up into the second player's position, his captain to his left. He could feel his pulse quicken, and he bounced slightly on his toes in anticipation. He'd only played on light mode earlier, and he was faring pretty decently. But everything was different for this round. He was playing against his _captain,_ who had already perfected his skills on Standard and was now playing on Heavy mode just for fun. Chekov bumped up his difficulty level and waited for Kirk.

"One drink says the captain wins this one." He heard McCoy whisper behind him.

"I don't know, Pavel's been doing alright, he might surprise us." Uhura sidled over next to the doctor.

"Make it a scotch and I'm in." the engineer quipped.

The young officer brushed a curl off of his face and looked over to his competitor. They hit the START button.

Arrows flew from the bottom of the screen at an alarming rate, speeding to the top before he could even think. The young man's eyes went wide, and his feet clunked against the dance pad in a clumsy attempt at the sequences. Chekov was convinced that he needed a third leg to effectively complete the steps. After a few horrifying seconds, he seemed to be hitting at least every other step, and he took a moment to glance at the captain's screen. The progress bar in the upper corner was nearly completely green. Turning back to his own screen, he yelped at the sight of his own progress bar blinking red. Defeat settled in the pit of his stomach, and he plodded through the rest of the song, knowing full well that he would never have caught up to the captain, let alone beat him.

Kirk, out of breath but grinning, lightly jumped to the floor. "That was fun. We should try that again sometime." He grabbed a napkin off of the closest table to dab at the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. "Well, I gotta go, things to do, people to see. How about meeting back here before beam-up? I like this place."

The group decided on coming back before returning to the _Enterprise_ after their three remaining days of shore leave and started to disperse, leaving a panting and beaten Chekov behind.

Three days. He had nothing to do for three days. Stepping down from the dance pad, Chekov slumped into a chair at a nearby table, and absently sipped the water set before him. He remained there for a few moments, mulling over ideas of what to do for the rest of his shore leave. His breathing now back to a more regular rhythm, he climbed up onto the dance pad, and started the game again.

oOoOoOoOo

Six of the seven officers that had been in the bar/restaurant three days earlier made their way through the front doors for the second time that week, chatting and laughing about things they had done or people they had seen in those three days they had been separated.

Kirk swaggered over to the bar, his signature cocky smirk on his face, and ordered drinks for the group. As he waited for the glasses to be filled, he aimlessly looked around the establishment, taking in the scene around him, and his eyes fell on a very familiar form playing a very familiar game.

Pavel Chekov was playing Dance Dance Revolution again, only this time better than before; much better than before. Rather than using only his side of the dance pad, he was using both, seeming to hover over the buttons. Arrows flew across the screen, indicating steps to be taken using both pads, and Chekov hit every single one. As he levitated across the playing area, more and more arrows shot to the top of the screen, and the teen suddenly dropped to the pad, manipulating the buttons with both hands and feet in a manner similar to a crab-walk. Utterly entranced, Kirk slowly walked over to the young officer, jaw hanging wide open. One look at the screen told him that this was on Heavy mode. All the captain could do was stare, blown away as if hit by a photon torpedo. The song finished, and Chekov popped himself back to his feet. 'Oohs' and 'ahs' came from the other crew members, who had also come over to watch the show.

The Russian wiz kid grinned. "Care to have a rematch, captain?"

FIN

oOoOoOoOo

A/N: This was originally chapter 1 because the idea for this one came first, but I decided to swap them. Don't forget to REVIEW!!!


	3. Captain's Operation

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

oOoOoOoOo

Captain's Operation

oOoOoOoOo

Jim rubbed a thumb over the small red welt on the side of his arm. Amazing how something so small can cause such pain. Having been planet-bound on an away mission for the past three days, Kirk had been bitten by one of the indigenous creatures, most likely an insect or arachnid of sorts. He forgot what Bones had called the bug, he really didn't care. He just knew that he was miserable. He pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, shivering uncontrollably. Sweat rolled down the side of his face, and he panted, his mouth going dry.

The CMO appeared from his office, eyes intently reading the information on a PADD he was holding. "Alright, Jim, you'll live." He smiled in reassurance at the younger man.

"Is there anything I can take for this?" Kirk rasped before being thrown into a coughing fit.

"I'm afraid not. Had we known about the bite when it first happened, we could have administered the anti venom, but it's too late for that. The stuff'll just have to run its course. The anti venom might actually make things worse than they already are. Don't worry, though. A bite from one of them ain't fatal, just horrible. You'll live."

"Fine." Jim sneezed. "Just give me something to sleep it off." He reached up to rub at his bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept in days. He'd been too sick to sleep. It hurt to breathe. Every movement he made sent sharp, searing pain through his entire nervous system. He had to consciously think about not moving. His throbbing headache made the blood pulse in his ears sound like a roaring river. Every sound, as quiet as it may be, was amplified to four times its usual decibel level. Sleep hadn't been an option.

"Sorry, no can do." Bones shook his head.

"What?" The young captain seemed to growl.

"Any sedative that we have would react badly with the venom. If we gave you something to sleep, you might not wake up." He turned the PADD around to show the younger man, who couldn't focus his gaze enough to actually read any of it. Kirk let out a slow, halting breath as his chest cavity threatened to cave in on him. His eyelids fluttered briefly, not wanting to put in the effort required to roll them. He felt the all too familiar sting of an injection against the side of his neck, but he was too sick to protest.

"That should ease the symptoms. You take it easy for the next few days; Spock can take care of the ship."

Kirk nodded, and slid from the biobed, turning toward the door. Sickbay seemed to tip at a ninety degree angle, and before he knew it he was on his back. He realized then that he really didn't like the color of the ceiling. A string of curses from the doctor indicated that something wasn't right, and the pain hit Jim as suddenly as a phaser blast. He could vaguely recall the doctor hovering over him, mumbling, but the words he was saying seemed to elude him. He seemed to be saying 'capped in,' and he found himself wondering what was capped in what. He squeezed his eyes shut as he was jostled and lifted from his position on the floor, unable to block out the unpleasant sensations overwhelming him.

Bones arranged the fallen officer on the biobed and flipped on the monitor. "Oh, no you don't. You are staying right here." He picked up another blanket and spread it over his friend. The captain writhed onto his side, overtaken by another bout of violent shivering. A few moments later they subsided as the drug started to take effect. He smiled inwardly; he would be fine in a day or two. He turned and disappeared into his office, intent on a certain operation that he had yet to successfully complete.

Seconds merged together, forming minutes that Kirk refused to keep track of. He didn't know how long he'd been lying there, and he wasn't about to ask. He sighed, the action coming a bit easier as he realized the medication was working. The lights had been dimmed and unnecessary monitors turned off to avoid the frequent beeping. All that could be heard was the subtle thrum of the engines. His eyes suddenly felt heavy, and he welcomed the thought of sleep. His vision growing hazy, he waited for the blackness to come.

BUZZ.

His entire body tensed, sending alarms through every cell to warn him of impending pain, however the warning came too late. He hissed through gritted teeth, instantly regretting the action. His sleep deprived mind was clouded and the urgency with which he was forced to snap back to full consciousness was not helping matters. He shuddered as he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and closed his eyes again. He probably imagined the noise. After all, he hadn't slept in days; he may very well be hallucinating.

He yawned, settling back into the pillow, focusing on absolutely nothing but the darkness within his own eyelids.

BUZZ.

Kirk's eyes shot open. He did NOT imagine that. One hallucination he could understand, but two? Of the exact same thing? And why a noise, not something else? If he were going to hallucinate, it couldn't be about women? He smirked at that. His thoughts drifting toward a more pleasant topic, he started to doze off again, the odd sound forgotten.

BUZZ.

The captain groaned. He threw the blanket off of him, sitting up slowly, dizziness increasing as he gained altitude. He could hear cursing coming from the CMO's office, accompanied by muffled laughter. He gripped the edge of the biobed as he slowly stood up. The world seemed to swim around him, and he blinked furiously in an effort to clear his foggy vision. It took every ounce of willpower the man had to persuade his body to close the space between him and the office door. Gripping the frame, he peered inside.

The doctor, Nurse Chapel, and several other officers huddled around the desk as Scotty (What was he doing there?) used metal tweezers to pull a tiny horse-shaped piece of plastic from a board. The playing area was printed to resemble a rather surprised looking human, with the exception of a bright red nose in the form of a light bulb. The others silently cheered for the engineer, and Bones snatched the tweezers away. He inserted them into another small opening in the board, trying to grip whatever piece was in there, and was rewarded by a loud and obnoxious BUZZ and the thing's 'nose' lighting up.

He mumbled something under his breath, and the others snickered.

"How is it possible that a doctor can't play Operation, and yet an engineer can?" Bones glared at the officers around him.

Scotty chuckled. "Ya got ta 'ave steady hands workin' with such delicate equipment." He smirked at the CMO.

"Yeah, yeah…" Bones rolled his eyes, and caught a glimpse of the figure standing in the doorway. The captain, simply put, looked like death warmed over. McCoy's eyes went wide and he swallowed hard. Jim Kirk was staring at him with a look that could sear flesh from bone, and he unconsciously shifted further away in his seat. The others looked up, only now noticing the captain. Their expressions varied greatly between shock, guilt, and panic.

"Turn. It. Off." The young man's voice was harsh and gravelly. His one and only desire, the simple pleasure of sleep, had been ruthlessly taken away. Three times, it had been stolen. He balled his hands into fists and he found himself fighting the primeval urge to just hit something.

Bones tucked the game under his desk, eyes still solidly fixed on the captain.

"Thank you." Kirk turned and staggered back to his bed. Crawling up onto it, he was already thinking about the luxury he had been denied. He pulled the covers up around his chin and curled onto his side again. Adjusting the pillow, he exhaled slowly; glad to know that he will finally get to slip into unconsciousness as he had been unable to do for the past three days.

BUZZ.

Muffled curses. Sickbay doors swishing open. Scuffling feet. Sickbay doors swishing closed.

FIN.

oOoOoOoOo

Ooh, you know I had to torture poor James T. Kirk, I just had to! Well, at least for a little bit. Hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks again for reading, and PLEASE take those extra few seconds to write a review; I would REALLY appreciate it!


	4. Lego My Ship!

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

A/N this one hits home for me…I pulled the act that Scotty pulls in this one…read on…

Lego My Ship!

It had been five weeks, four days, twenty three hours and forty seven minutes since he'd started this project. Most of his waking hours in engineering were spent right here, working with the small, delicate pieces of the _Enterprise._ The work surface had been littered with parts and components, and slowly but surely, they had been assembled into a thing of beauty. Every one had its place and its purpose. It had been a tough venture, not even having any kind of blueprints to follow, no instructions of any kind, but then again, that's how Scotty liked it. He worked best when he didn't have to follow exact specifications. He had worked ad infinitum on this since the moment he'd started, and been ruthlessly guarding it like a wild sehlat. Now, after all the time and effort, his work was nearly complete.

The chief engineer snapped the last Lego block in place, and brushed his hands together, as if to rid them of some nonexistent dirt. He sighed roughly, grinning at his fine creation. There, right in front of him, sat the starship _Enterprise,_ recreated down to every last detail, in 20th century style Lego bricks. The thing was big; to be sure, the saucer section alone a good three feet in diameter, but any smaller and there would have been no way to effectively capture her splendor. Small enough to fit in the space allowed, yet large enough to permit a small replica bridge, the Lego form was a work of art, right down to the painted Starfleet insignia on the uniform shirts of the senior officers and main bridge crew.

The doors hissed open behind him, and he turned, still smiling. The expression changed instantly, however, at the sight of a young ensign is his department, heading full force in his direction at warp factor nine.

"Commander Scott, Commander Scott!" The officer was holding a PADD out in front of him, waving it frantically with both hands. The boy's eyes seemed to nearly pop from their sockets when he realized that the chief engineer was significantly closer than he previously thought.

Scotty knew, from basic physics, that Newton's laws will always apply. A body in motion will stay in motion. He gulped. That body will remain in motion unless acted upon by an external force. He had to be that force. He immediately applied Newton's second law: The change of momentum of a body is proportional to the impulse impressed on the body, and happens along the straight line on which that impulse is impressed.

The engineer bellowed a string of curses to make a pirate flush, diving in front of the younger man in an effort to deflect him and prevent impact and subsequent annihilation of the smaller _Enterprise_.

The two collided, Scotty gripping the ensign at the wrist and shoulder and swinging him around, the PADD skittering to the floor. Not having had time to fully center himself, he couldn't stop the other officer, and the action of whirling him in the other direction brought them both to their knees, miraculously missing the work surface by a whisper.

After a brief moment of silence, the calm before the storm, Scotty rose to his feet, spluttering incomprehensibly, which was probably for the best. He hauled the young man to his feet, turning him around and shoving him back the way he had come. "Get out'a here! We're plenty well staffed! And watch where you're goin,!"

"But sir…? I need my…" The wide-eyes boy was pointing frantically to the floor behind the engineer.

"Not now, you bloody li'l prick!" He muttered something under his breath, shaking his head as he forcefully escorted the ensign from the room.

He shoved the younger man through the door, adjusting his uniform shirt as the boy helplessly watched the doors close. "Sir! I need my--" His last desperate plea was cut off, blocked behind the soundproofed walls.

Scotty wiped a hand across his face in frustration, but glad to see that his masterpiece was still intact. He stepped forward, onto the PADD the ensign had dropped, and realized that he hadn't taken Murphy's Law into account.

The slick piece of equipment slid, taking his foot with it. The engineer jerked backwards, arms spinning hopelessly trying to keep him upright. The irrepressible force of the ship's artificial gravity pulled him toward the ground, and one flailing hand made rough contact with the Lego model on the table. Scotty's eyes went wide. If it were only hit, he could salvage it, but his stomach dropped when he felt his hand involuntarily latch onto the delicate piece holding up the saucer section. He cursed his reflexes, feeling the bricks give way at his grasp. His fingers tore right through them, ripping the saucer free. Everything was moving in slow motion; as he continued to fall, he could see the fragile piece of the ship fall with him. The bow hit the table, shattering, creating a wave of pieces like the ocean breaking on the beach. His frantic gaze fell on the nacelles. No longer balanced by the saucer, they too tipped to meet the work surface. The crashing of thousands of small plastic bricks was like a roaring waterfall, and the toys came cascading down onto Scotty, lying on his back beside what was once a design worthy of kings, that was now completely and utterly obliterated. Everything that can go wrong will go wrong.

Scotty blinked up at the ceiling. Several grey blocks landed on his chest. He rose slowly, removing a panel on the front of the counter and taking out a bottle of scotch and a small glass. He poured the caramel colored liquid, sipped it, and placed the items on the table. He exhaled slowly in a long, drawn-out sigh. His eyes flicked through the mess, resting on a tiny figure in the midst of what was left of the saucer section.

He picked up the tiny man. "Captain; of course you'd survive." He cleared away a small space, placing the figure back on the table and continuing to rummage through the wreck.

"Spock…next to Uhura; typical. Chekov!" He examined the little man; the paint on his face was chipped. "What happened to your eye?" He placed him with the others, and brushed aside some more pieces. Sulu, you seem to be farin' alright. Doctor…I think Chekov needs ya." He filtered through the rest of the pieces, slowly working his way to what would have been the stern of the vessel. He picked up a small chunk of pieces that were miraculously still together, and found among the carnage a small, red shirted, headless Lego officer.

"Oh…Scotty…now's no time ta' lose your head." He plopped the figure into the glass. "You need that more 'n I do." He sighed again, stealing a swig from the bottle. With a sigh, he sank to the table and propped himself on his elbows, eye level with the glass. His gaze flitted over the total annihilation, assessing the damage. "So," He turned to himself, floating in the glass. "How would you fix that?"

FIN

A/N I know his pain…I completely and utterly obliterated my Lego Enterprise-D, though it wasn't nearly as…extensive…as Scotty's situation. Mine was small-ish, and took a good four hours; I managed to save it…most of it…I'm actually still finding random pieces floating around the room…it looks complete…*ahem* anyhow…as crazy as that was, it produced good fanfiction!

Please review! C'mon, if you can take the time to read this, possibly put it in your favorites, don't you have time to write at least a little something?

Hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
